Sitting by the desk in the library he unveiled the situation, what he had heard, seen and knew. The men gave an unwinking attention, now and then stopping him to plant a question. The trend of Williams’ thoughts was soon revealed--he suspected Flora Stokes. When the matter was threshed out he came to an open admission with the remark: “Well, you have only one person here who had the provocation necessary to commit murder.” Bassett made no answer. If his duty required him to tell all he knew, it did not require him to give his own opinions. Rawson who was smoking, his long, loose-jointed frame slouched down in an armchair, took his cigar from his mouth: “Of course the woman’s the first person you’d think of. She had the necessary provocation and the state of mind. But the way she came in and told them--as Mr. Bassett describes it--doesn’t look to me like a guilty person.” “Why not?” “Sounds too genuine, too like real excitement.” “Don’t you think it’s natural to get excited if you’ve killed some one?” “Yes, but not just that way.” Williams leaned over the arm of his chair: “You got to remember something about these people, Rawson--and it counts big--they’re all actors.” Bassett spoke up quickly: “No, she wasn’t acting. You’d have known that if you’d seen her. What she did was natural--a woman suffering from a fearful shock.” “Couldn’t an actor put that on?” “Yes, some could, but I’m certain she wasn’t.” “When Stokes came into the room after the shot,” said Rawson, “how did he behave?” “He seemed all right. But I can’t honestly say that I noticed him much. The light was fading and I was so irritated by the thought that some one had been shooting that I didn’t pay any attention to him.” “Oh, rubbish!” Williams made a rolling motion in the scoop of the big chair. “You can’t suspect the man; he was in love with her. He didn’t want to kill her, he wanted to keep her alive.” “Men _do_ kill the women they love, especially when they can’t get her.” “Yes, they do. I’ve known of such cases. But that’s impulse. This was premeditated.” The sheriff pointed at the revolver lying on the desk. “Sometime to-day somebody located that gun, took it for a purpose--not to shoot sea-gulls as you thought, Mr. Bassett.” Rawson looked at the pistol: “Premeditation, all right. Was there anybody in the outfit who didn’t know you’d opened that drawer and found the revolver gone?” Bassett considered: “Stokes didn’t know. He came in after I’d shut the drawer. I didn’t speak of it because just as I’d got through asking him if he’d seen any one, we heard Mrs. Stokes’ scream.” “And _she_ didn’t, of course,” commented Williams. “While you were running round at the Point the house was empty?” “I think Mrs. Stokes was here all the time. I never saw her outside.” “Any of the others come up?”